


So since I’m still here livin’ / I guess I will live on

by becauseitwasreal



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: & bellamy is such a dad seriously, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, murphy is an insecure dumb kid, references to rape (but nothing explicit)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 20:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11321094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becauseitwasreal/pseuds/becauseitwasreal
Summary: John Murphy is absolutely fine. [Post-S3]





	So since I’m still here livin’ / I guess I will live on

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Life is Fine" by Langston Hughes.

                “Thank you.”

                It took Murphy a fraction of a second too long to register who had appeared behind him, and he spun around, his body tensing up. He was met with Bellamy’s hazel eyes, and he could breathe again. He bit his lip. He startled too easy these days, but living in a Grounder camp did that to you, he guessed. You never knew when there was danger lurking behind the corner, or in this case, behind your back.

                “Murphy?” His voice was careful, as if he was approaching a wounded animal. He felt as if that might just as easily have been the case. He never knew what to expect with Murphy. When they first landed, he had only been vaguely aware that the boy was somewhat of a wild card. But with everything that happened after – he hadn’t thought the scruffy-looking seventeen-year-old would have been capable of that. Then again, he knew which faces would appear in his dreams if this day ever got to an end. He had killed far more innocent people than Murphy ever had – hell, Murphy was directly responsible for perhaps seven deaths. He had killed hundreds, with and without Clarke. He had done things he hadn’t thought _himself_ capable of. All of them had. On the ground, that was a given.

                “Yeah?” Murphy couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice. He wanted to be alone, and he turned himself towards water source again. The blood wouldn’t wash off his hands completely, no matter how long he scrubbed and how dark the water turned. Some of the black remained, and it almost made his eyes sting. Almost. It wasn’t as if John Murphy had any feelings. Especially not when Bellamy Blake was in close proximity.

                Bellamy annoyingly took a step closer in Murphy’s direction, invading his personal space too much to the boy’s liking, but Murphy didn’t move. Bellamy splashed some water over his arm, washing some of the grime off without any real commitment. “You okay?”

                Murphy gritted his teeth and bit back the first comment that came into his head. _I kept the woman who fucking raped me alive to save your girlfriend, what do you think, you asshole?_ He had learned that it was sometimes best to keep his mouth shut. If he wanted to be a survivor, he didn’t need to antagonise one of the few people who didn’t seem to loathe him, not now it became a possibility to return their own camp, so he nodded along. Besides, he knew it wasn’t fair on Bellamy. He didn’t have any way of knowing about what Ontari had done to him, if he even knew that he and Ontari had a previous connection at all. He’d rather die than tell the guy, and he didn’t think that Clarke would have boasted about leaving him behind. Bellamy hadn’t even been the one to ask him to do it. If he had known, he might not even have asked. No, scratch that, wishful thinking. Bellamy Blake definitely cared more about Clarke’s ass than about Murphy’s. Bellamy would have wanted to save Clarke too, even if he didn’t realise that the two of them were practically married. But still, he wasn’t the one to make the call, and he couldn’t blame Bellamy for something that happened while he was busy being pressed to the floor by a murderous Kane. He couldn’t. But he still did.

                “Verbal confirmation would be nice.”

                The younger boy huffed. “Yes, dad. I’m fine.” He couldn’t help but glance sideways, and he accidentally met Bellamy’s eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he thought he detected worry.

                “It’s just – Clarke mentioned that – eh – well…” Bellamy looked down, as if unsure how to finish his sentence.

                Clarke – well, it wasn’t the first time she surprised him. He wondered how much she had told Bellamy. He wondered how honest she had been. He knew it didn’t help to be this bitter. She didn’t owe him shit, and yet he had still expected her to care enough. That was always his mistake.

“She said that you were still there when Ontari took over command.”

                His hands were still black, and Murphy scrubbed a little harder.

                Bellamy remained silent, waiting for a response while he studied the younger boy’s hands. His skin was raw and red, and it took him a while to realise that the blood on Murphy’s hands was fresh.

                “Your point, exactly?”

                “Well, she’s shown herself to be kind of a crazy bitch.”

                The boy grimaced humourlessly. “That’s kind of an understatement.”

                “So really,” Bellamy said, and he covered Murphy’s hands with his own, darker ones. “Are you okay?”

                “I’m fine, Bellamy. Piss off.” Murphy tried to wriggle his hand away from Bellamy, but the latter’s grip was stronger.

                “I’m serious, Murphy. Your hand is bleeding.”

                “It’s not my blood. It’s Ontari’s,” he said, and he suddenly felt very small. “It won’t go away.”

                Bellamy wiped the blood away with the hem of his shirt, and then let go of Murphy’s hands. “It’s your own blood. It’s gone now.”

                “Oh,” Murphy said stupidly, and he stared at his hands for a while before shoving them into his pockets. He needed to find an excuse to get away from Bellamy’s nauseating puppy eyes, or he might actually spill. When the older man held his hands, it seemed as if he actually cared, as if he actually wanted to know what had happened before Murphy showed up in Polis, for once at the right time, not an inconvenience. No. He had bought Bellamy’s older-brother-act until he strung him up without a reason, and he couldn’t afford to fall for it again. “I should go and find Emori,” he murmured, and as he saw Bellamy’s sad eyes, he cursed inwardly at the transparency of his lie.  

                Bellamy didn’t stop Murphy as the boy scurried off, and he shook his head. Sometimes he did actually feel like the kid’s dad. And a really incompetent one at that.

                “Hey Bellamy?” Murphy called back. He was fine. Bellamy had to know that he was fine. He was wearing a comfortable smirk now he was at a distance.

                “Yeah?”

                “You’re welcome.”


End file.
